Stolen Moments
by Tribal Shimmy
Summary: Alexander spends time with Hephaistion. This is just a short story...more epic drama coming soon!


Alexander lay awake, his head on Hephaistion's chest, the fingers of his right hand, gently tracing the muscles of his lover's chest, through the chiton that he wore.

It had often been this way of late, stolen moments, away from the crowded court, and after their love making Hephaistion would sleep while he soaked in the stillness, found peace in the solitude of the two of them alone

He shifted his position on the bed, thinking for the moment of the contrast between the solitude of the room, and the activity of the court beyond the wooden doors.

He would not choose to be anywhere else, right now, but with Hephaistion. Through all their years together it had been Hephaistion who had given him the calm he sought.

Perhaps they had gained too much. With each conquest came more legislation, more envoys, more orders, requests, demands, problems and people.

Time.

They never had enough of it now. Not like when they were boys together, filling their days with endless mischief. Even at Mieza there was time enough to just be, back at Pella too they found their solitude.

Hephaistion often talked of their time in exile, remembering it fondly, though it had been bitter cold and they had often gone hungry, and lived in danger of their lives, from the tribes that they sought shelter from. Time alone then. How did they ever come to this?

He understood Hephaistion's fond memories and they had tried to recapture those times, planning to take off alone, but his bodyguard would follow, Persian envoys would assume that they were welcome and in turn the likes of Ptolemy, Seleucus, Perdiccas and Eumenes would tag along too.

On the last attempt Hephaistion had thrown his head back and laughed to see the crowd that intended accompanying them. He'd said they might as well stay at the camp, because that would be deserted

He sighed and caressed Hephaistion's body. Lifting his head to gaze on the beautiful face of his lover, as if he might have woken him. He smiled, because Hephaistion could sleep anywhere, on horseback if necessary, from dusk till dawn in bed, as soundly as a newborn baby, whereas he would wake during the night and use the time to think things through, to think of new campaigns, which in turn would bring more legislation, more envoys, more orders…

Dawn was breaking, the early morning light reaching in through the window.

He lifted his head to gaze upon Hephaistion's face. His lapis eyes were open, gazing on him.

"Joy to you, Hephaistion," he whispered. His voice had somehow deserted him.

"Alexander."

It was Ptolemy's voice, from outside the room, from just the other side of the door. As Alexander turned in the direction of it, the door opened and Ptolemy stepped in to the room, followed by Leonnatus, Perdiccas, Seleucus and Nearchus.

"You have to let him go," Ptolemy said, softly.

Alexander turned back to gaze on Hephaistion. Death could not have taken him, he would wake at any moment to see the dawn.

"They have to prepare his body, Alexander," Ptolemy continued.

"No." Alexander lifted himself up, and kissed Hephaistion's lips. They were cold, like ice, like when they were in exile, like when Hephaistion would look on him with love, shrouded in furs, and cold kisses and warm embraces were plentiful. They had time together then, more than they ever had of late.

He went to kiss the lips again, as if he might warm them.

"Alexander,…don't." Ptolemy stepped forward, turning to the others and nodding his head. They surged forward, grasping for him, trying to pull him back, trying to part them.

"No!" Alexander fought to stay. "Hephaistion!" he called, gripping the chiton, feeling his fingers being prised away. He cried out in grief as he felt himself lifted away, and fought to return to his lover's side but he was held too tightly.

"Let me go!" he commanded, but he was not released. He glared at Ptolemy, to see him look to Perdiccas, who was struggling to hold his right arm.

"Ptolemy is right," Perdiccas said. "Hephaistion is dead, Alexander. You cannot lie here with him. Let him go, I beg you."

Alexander's face distorted in pain as Ptolemy pulled back the furs, revealing Hephaistion's body and screamed in pain as he wrapped the sheet around him, and servants came in to lift his body from the bed. He fought against the men he had known since boyhood, he struggled, but his struggles grew weaker as Hephaistion was taken from the room, as he realised he had lost the battle.

He hung his head, tears falling freely from his face. Still held, but no longer wanting to fight.

When he looked up, he saw Ptolemy crouching before him, holding a cup of wine. "You need to drink."

Alexander shook his head, closed his eyes and saw Hephaistion. He looked over at the empty bed, over to the corner of the room where Hephaistion's armour stood. Closing his eyes again, he saw Hephaistion in battle, grinning over at him that victory was theirs and they still lived to share it.

It all meant nothing now.

Alexander shrugged himself free of his companion's grip, and lifted himself up. He was alone now - for the first time since he was seven years old and had run in to the courtyard and met Hephaistion…his Patroclus.

He ran his hands up in to his hair, knowing what he had to do. He looked at his companions, saw their concerned faces, but felt nothing for them. His hair, he had to find a dagger to cut his hair…

THE END


End file.
